Author: Leslie

The house is clean. You can all come visit now.

Today I was sitting in my office – decorated in post-modern warehouse – with pretty blue walls, a rather comfortable wicker chair and a fabulous flat-screen monitor and who walks in but the Terminex guy. I’ve heard good things about the Terminex guy from those who have worked here longer than I. He hates bugs, doesn’t mind mice, despises rats. An exterminator who has a passion for his job – you don’t see many of those these days.

Our Terminex man was called because my boss thought he smelled dead mice in the ceiling and walls. I just thought the smell was normal as I haven’t been here that long and who’s to say what’s normal here? As Mr. Terminex examines our drop ceilings for ‘droppings’ he asked if I had seen any flies. What a question! I respond with a ‘Yes!’ and say in fact, I have noticed a few flies the last couple of weeks and the day they annoyed me most was Thursday, August 4th. He says, and this is where it gets gross, that the flies show up when the carcass of the mice are decomposing, hence the reason he does not see mice carcasses in the walls and ceilings.

So not only was I bothered by ridiculously large flies for about 2 weeks, I was actually sitting below the dead carcasses of mice.

My office. A standard office in a warehouse building. It’s a large room, enough for a good-sized, L-shaped desk and all of the standard office accrutrements. This office, being the front room and the only room air-conditioned in the middle of August in Atlanta, gets plenty of visitors, including Atlanta’s most obnoxious fly. It’s huge, the fly, landing on the rolodex, the flat-screen monitor, my coffee cup. I’ve attacked it with my phone message book, tried to pin it between the window and the blinds. I’ve tried to coax it out the door – to freedom! – to no avail. At most, I’ve been able to shoo it into Dave’s office but it always comes back to annoy me.

I thought these things we’re supposed to have a life span of 24 hours.

It’s the fly from hell. It’s been here since Monday. And it likes to fly near my ears.

We’re going tubing. Now this would be enough reason for us all to get together, but the real reason, the real cause for celebration are the 30th birthdays of Amber, Day and Kent.

The house is open for partying the entire Labor Day weekend, but we’ll prolly throw a honest-to-goodness, keg in a cooler, Leslie cooks real food, we actually get to use the deck with the tiki torches, party that Saturday. Bring yourselves, bring other people, come tubing in North Georgia with us.

Any questions, let me know here or call or email.

Yesterday I researched the local staffing (temp) agencies in the area. Not surprisingly there were agencies that looked as if they couldn’t staff a PhD and others than looked as if they would be a good match. I sent in my application and resume (the application had questions such as, how long did you work a pallet jack (2 years!) and if you were ever a receptionist, how many phone lines did you work?). This morning I got a call back and have to go in tomorrow to fill out paperwork and complete their test on computer skills. Despite the fact that I’m very proficient in computers, I’m still worried. I’m not that fabulous at making graphs and anything requiring numbers floors me.

Wish me luck. I can’t wait to begin making money again. And the nicest part of a temp agency is that I get paid weekly. Yay.

The house is so clean you could eat off the floors. The furniture is glowing with lemon Pledge. All windows are without cat-nose smudges. I’m a master at baking. My Nonna’s donated curtains are ironed and smell like her laundry detergent. The bed is made. The bathroom is sparkling and all of the towels are clean. The bills are paid, the picket fence is painted, the cd’s are in alphabetical order. We have plenty of ice, the newly planted herbs are growing. I’m knitting scarves and cell phone cozies for everyone one I know, in bizarre colors from leftover yarn. Papers are filed and I can find anything in the house in 30 seconds. All of our clothes are folded and put away, winter clothes in storage. Reservations are made for vacation in Jersey. There are no pens in this house that don’t write, all pencils are sharpened. I finished all of the Washington Post crossword puzzles in their online archives; I have answered every possible clue about Napoleon’s exile in Elba. There is nothing under the bed except a rarely-used suitcase. I have discarded all old makeup according to Style magazine’s chart. I take extremely long showers. I know every stray cat in a 3 block radius. I have taught my cats to come to me when called. I have seen every Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode at least twice. I have written multiple versions of a cover letter all saved under a different file name for easy access. I’ve tried every exercise program on the Comcast On Demand channel. My personal favorite is Pilates. The Yoga instructor is a lunatic, no one can get in those positions. The woodwork is clean and there are no dust bunnies in this house. The dry goods are stored according to the Joy of Cooking’s ‘Pantry Tips’. I know exactly how many tablespoons of butter equal a third of a cup.

Martha Stewart would be proud.

I am going mad.

Happy Birthday Beth! She has reached a new age bracket and sadly, the American advertisers are no longer clammoring for her money – she has moved to the Adult bracket – a real job, 401k’s, health insurance, a savings account. Poor Beth, no longer a kid. But don’t worry, everyone will still treat you like one and the family will still ask you a million questions about every aspect of your life.

It’s now time for Mom to take you to an expensive lunch with snow crab legs and cosmopolitans.

Welcome to the big time.

Love,
Leslie